


Home

by XenonTheShapeChanger



Category: Gravity Falls, Swooning Over Stans, gfdatingsim
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenonTheShapeChanger/pseuds/XenonTheShapeChanger
Summary: You’d been under the floating pyramid when, Dipper told you later, Stan had allowed Bill into his mind and Ford had erased all his memories. You had jumped up from the porch steps and ran towards him as he, Ford, and the twins approached the Shack, but Ford held up a six fingered hand, and Stanley looked at you, head cocked to the side. You never knew the phrase “Who’s the smokin’ babe?” coming from Stan would rip your heart from your chest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% self indulgent cliche cheese. I played @gfdatingsim and absolutely loved it, and it inspired me to write again for the first time in months. I hope this is remotely in character, but in my defense I am out of practice. Thank you to the dating sim team for giving me something so good and happy that I wanted to write. I cannot heap enough praises on the game.

You missed Stanley.

Mabel and Dipper saw the slump in your shoulders, the frown on your lips when you weren’t thinking about holding a smile. They asked, but Stan hadn’t told them about you, and how could you when he didn’t remember? So you told them you’d lost a loved one, which was true, and went back to work in wake of their condolences.

You missed him so goddamn much.

Mabel made him laugh, not his little chuckle but a deep belly laugh that shook his broad shoulders and lit up his face, and your heart ached. You missed his calloused hand in yours, his voice in your ear, that soft look he gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. You missed kissing him breathless, his smile against your mouth, his hands everywhere.

You missed telling him you loved him and watching his face catch fire.

And love him you did, which made sweeping floors and cleaning up the Mystery Shack all the more torturous, to be so close but so far from him.

You’d been under the floating pyramid when, Dipper told you later, Stan had allowed Bill into his mind and Ford had erased all his memories. You had jumped up from the porch steps and ran towards him as he, Ford, and the twins approached the Shack, but Ford held up a six fingered hand, and Stanley looked at you, head cocked to the side. You never knew the phrase “Who’s the smokin’ babe?” coming from Stan would rip your heart from your chest.

The twins had told him the truth that they knew. That you’d worked there for a year and a half, taking care of the Shack with Soos. He accepted that easily enough, and you had followed them inside as Dipper and Mabel tried desperately to get him to remember something, anything.

And remember he did, thanks to Mabel’s scrapbook. He remembered Waddles first, then Mabel, Dipper, Soos, and Ford. He was chuckling and holding the twins tight to his sides, the lot of them crying happy tears.

Your tears were heartbroken.

Mabel had no pictures of you in her scrapbook.

Refusing pictures seemed stupid in retrospect. You always ducked out of them, laughing as she tried to catch you and never did. You didn’t like pictures of yourself, especially not ones that would go into such an important book.

You would have given anything to be in it now, Stanley’s eyes so unreadable we he looked at you from his armchair, fussed over by his family.

Family you weren’t a part of anymore.

—

“Hello, Stanley,” you said, smiling at him as he walked in to the Shack. He waved a calloused hand at you, eyes glued to a magazine in his hands, and continued walking to the living room, presumably to his armchair. You sighed, the grin falling from your face and continuing to sweep.

You’d keep trying until he remembered. You wouldn’t give up on Stan.

“Hey.”

Ford’s smooth voice startled you, and you whirled to face him, plastering that smile on your face again. “Ford! How are you?” You cocked your head at him. “Did you need something? I haven’t got the gift shop completely cleaned up, but I do know where most of the tools are–”

“No, no,” he shook his head, looking you over, calculating. You could almost hear him thinking. “I had something to ask.”

“Shoot,” you said, dread curling in your stomach. What if he asked you to leave, now that the Shack was mostly fixed up? Stanford had no attachment to you. What if-

“You and Stanley were close, weren’t you?”

The air left your lungs in a quick exhale, like you’d been punched. “W-what?”

“I see the way you look at him. Like a lost puppy, hoping for treats.” Ouch? He must have seen you scrunch your face because he backpedalled immediately, cheeks a bit pink. “I mean. You look at him like you miss him. Like you…liked him.”

The past tense hurt, and it was a huge understatement, but you didn’t mention it.

“I may not know Stanley as well as I used to, but I know…if he let you stick around this long, he must have liked you too.”

You sighed, continuing to sweep, unable to look at Ford anymore, and instead focused on the floorboards.

“We were…together,” you said softly. “Stanley didn’t want to tell the twins until after he got you back, so it was less of a shock than a missing twin grunkle.” You smiled a little, fondly. “I understood. I was fine as long as I had Stanley, you know? Everything in the world was brighter when I had him.” You stopped, breath shuddering, eyes burning. “But…he doesn’t remember. I’m not sure if it was because I wasn’t that important after all, or-”

“Stanley isn’t cruel,” Ford said, voice stern now. “He never has been. I’m sure you were important. Are, I mean. I’m positive it’s just because those memories weren’t recovered yet. We just have to find the trigger.” At the promise of an experiment of sorts, you could hear the excitement in his voice, but you shook your head.

“I don’t want to make him uncomfortable by forcing something he doesn’t remember,” you said softly. “I’m thinking I’ll just go about daily life here. Wait and see. He’s been through enough.”

“He would want to remember,” a gruff voice said. “I’m sure of it.”

Whatever you were about to say next died on your tongue. Stanley stood in the doorway, a frown on his lips, his fez in his hands. Probably to keep him from wringing his fingers like he always did when he was nervous.

Your cheeks went bright red. Breathing hurt.

“Stanley,” you whispered. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he said, and took a step towards you. Ford cleared his throat and left the room. Stanley didn’t look away from you, his eyes that same unreadable look from the night of Weirdmageddon.

“I’m sorry,” you started, clinging to the handle of the broom. “I know you don’t remember, and I didn’t want to make it awkward. Gods, Stanley…Just tell me to go.”

It was the only way you could ever bring yourself you stay away.

“Somehow I don’t think I want to do that,” he said, stepping closer to you. You held perfectly still, barely breathing as he got within arms length, so so close to you.

“I feel like something’s missing when I look at you. A naggin’ in the back of my head. I have since I saw you cryin’ that night. And you say it’s cause…you an’ I were a thing?” He scoffed under his breath. “I guess I don’t see why you’d lie about it. I’m not exactly Gravity Falls most eligible bachelor.”

“That’s a lie!” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You just can’t remember the times I’ve chose you over everyone else.”

He looked sheepish after a moment, scratching the back of his head. “If you say so, toots.”

Silence fell over the both of you for a while as you thought about what this meant. He didn’t remember, but he believed it, so…what did that mean for you?

“So…I know it can’t be the same, but…can I stop pretending to be a stranger?” You reached up, hesitating just before his cheek, and then dropped your hand. “I know you may not be comfortable with everything we had before, but maybe we could start talking again? And watching The Duchess together? And making pancakes? We don’t have to be…together if you don’t want, but I miss you, Stanley.”

“Y-Yeah, I think I would be ok with that.” His eyes searched your face, before he sighed, shoulders relaxing. “I musta felt damn lucky every day to have you. I mean, look at you. Still waiting for an old man like me.”

“You still have me, Stanley,” you said, so, so sure. “For now, we can be friends again. I don’t want to force anything, or make you uncomfortable.” Truthfully, this was more than you had dared hope for. “And you can take it at your pace, if you remember little things, or if you…want to hold my hand or something.”

He cleared his throat, cheeks pink. You couldn’t help your smile. He was so cute.

“Alright. Thanks, sugar.” The pet name seemed to slip out, as Stanley himself seemed surprised by it. Your pulse jumped, a blush adorning your own cheeks now.

Maybe there was hope after all.

—–

Pancakes came with laughter, now.

At first it was a little awkward. Stanley had to relearn who you were. He had to ask what music you liked when he put on a record, only to grin at you when you immediately sang along to whatever old bop came on first. You told him you used to dance with him to it, here in the living room, and danced in place until he chuckled and shimmied his shoulders to the beat.

He had to relearn your tastes in food (lots of sugar in your coffee and lots of syrup on your pancakes, both of which he was playfully disgusted by). He relearned what made you laugh, how you looked at him every time he made a pun before snorting in laughter.

He relearned how you smiled, how you laughed.

You still worked in the Mystery Shack, but days were easier now, happier. Stanley was your friend again. He filled the hours with stories you had heard before but would always treasure hearing again. He filled your days with gravely laughter and banter and you felt home.

Tonight, though, ended a bit differently than the days you had become accustomed to.

Stan locked the front door to the mystery shack and turned to you, arms crossed. You put the last bobble head in its place on the shelf before blinking at him.

“What’s on your mind, Stan?”

“I was wonderin’…Well, I mean, did you want to watch a movie tonight?”

“Sure! I always love re-watching The Duchess with you, Stan.” You grinned at him. Stanley, though, shook his head.

“Not just a movie. I mean…well, would it be ok if it was a date?”

Your heart leapt. You opened and closed your mouth. Stanley deflated.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep, it’s just ya seemed to be havin’ fun with me still and I thought you still-”

“Yes!” You clasped your hands in front of yourself and shifted from foot to foot to keep from running to him and crushing him in a hug. “I would love that, Stanley!” You beamed, eyes burning, and Stanley gave you a relieved smile.

“Oh, that’s…that’s good, toots. I can’t say I’m not glad.”

An idea struck you, and you stepped closer to him. “Hey, Stanley?” You sounded serious, and Stanley easily picked up the atmosphere change.

“Yeah?”

“Does that mean…I can touch you if I want?”

His face melted into a smirk, one you recognized from when you first started going out, when he deflected every affection with something lewd. “Where you gonna touch me, sugar?” he asked, and you huffed at him.

“Not like that! Stanley!” You laughed, decidedly not adding the fact that you would have wanted that, too. “I mean like…” You reached for his hand and held it, interlacing your fingers. “Like this.”

Stanley stared at you, disbelief changing to a warm look that you hadn’t seen in almost two months.

“Yeah, pumpkin. I think that would be fine.”

—–

You sat on the couch with Stanley, British accents faded background noise of the TV as you ran your thumb over the back of his hand over and over, reveling in the contact. He wanted to hold hands with you. He’d grabbed your hand as soon as you’d both sat down, not looking at you, and you’d snuggled back into the couch, not touching him anywhere but your hands.

Stanley wasn’t watching the movie either, apparently, because he usually cried around when the Duchess was so heartbroken and worried for her future.

You yawned, covering it with your free hand, and Stanley looked down at you, chuckling. He pulled his hand from yours and before you could protest, he had yawned too, stretched his arms high above his head, and wrapped an arm around you. A classic Stanley move. He pulled you to his chest, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder, and you let out a happy sigh before you could stop yourself, curling closer to him. He was so warm, so broad and perfect holding you like this.

“Sleep if you want, toots,” he said softly. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

His breathing lulled you further, made you drowsy. You wanted to stay awake, to treasure every moment that Stan spent with you like this, even if he didn’t remember what you had yet. He still wanted-

“Hey.”

You looked up at Stan blearily and he gave you a look so soft your insides went molten.

“Here.”

He rest his hand palm up against his thigh, waiting. Slowly, sure you were dreaming, you put your hand in his, and Stan intwined his fingers with yours with a soft hum that vibrated through his chest.

Your eyes closed. You always slept much better with Stanley at your side, and tonight was no different.

You were home.


	2. Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me@Myself: You idiot. You total buffoon. You didn't even have them kiss last chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> (Next chapter mighty be nsfw idk)

You often dreamt about kissing Stan.

So you were greedy. Who could blame you? He held your hand more often now, reached for you every chance he got and you did the same. He never said anything about it, and you would have been worried you were clingy had Stan not so often seemed to want it, too. 

Even when Ford and the kids were around, he would brush his hand against yours, a touch of pinky fingers or a graze of his thumb against the back of your hand. It always left you wanting more, but more importantly, Stan wanted to touch you. 

And that, of course, made it much harder to not kiss him.

You missed it. You missed everything about it. The feel of his stubble, the taste of soda on his tongue, the soft breathy groans when you carded your fingers through his hair.

You missed him.

It had been almost two months since Stanley had asked you on your first date since Weirdmageddon, and every day you had to bite your tongue to keep from asking for more.

Today you distracted yourself by sitting in the lawn and building a little faerie house right at the edge of the forest. You had three walls made of sticks, a roof of large leaves, and a little flower at the base, for flair.

It was pretty cute, if you said so yourself.

"Y'know, once they find that, they're never gonna leave us in peace?" 

You looked up at Stanley at his mumbled interjection, in his tank top and boxers, Dr. Pitt in hand, one eyebrow raised, and felt your cheeks go pink at the sight of him.

He was so broad and perfect and god, you were lucky. You just wished you could tell him without scaring him.

"I don't mind if the faeries hang out!" You said instead. "They're sparkly and cute, they've never caused any harm!" 

"Not to you," Stanley huffed, and sat down beside you, grumbling about his knees and his back. You giggled, leaning your head on his shoulder, which shut him up immediately.

"Of all the weird species in Gravity Falls I could have lured here, Stan, I don't think you should be complaining about the faeries." You nuzzled into his shoulder, still giggling. "I could lure gnomes. Or plaidypuses! Plaidypi? Anyway, I don't know what they could do to us, but I'm sure it would be terrifying."

"I'm sure, pumpkin," Stan said, his voice the same as when he tried to placate Mabel. The softness to it made you smile fondly.

"Where's Ford?" You asked. Stan wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. You closed your eyes at the touch, reveling in it.

"Went out with Fidds. They said somethin' about a lake monster, but not the one that Fidds made up? I dunno, I didn't really listen too far into it." He chuckled, but his heart wasn't really in it.

Silence fell between you both, Stanley strangely quiet, and you scared to ruin what you had. 

You reached forward to fix a stick in the wall of your little makeshift house. Stan pulled you back to his side immediately, and you scrunched your eyebrows.

Here goes everything.

"Stanley, are you ok?"

"I've been thinking," he said at the same time you asked. You shut your mouth, surprised he seemed willing to talk about whatever was bothering him on his own. "I...don't really know how to ask, though."

"Whatever it is, just ask." You tried to make your voice warm through your nerves. "I promise I won't be upset or anything."

"I...I was wonderin'," he started, and then growled, pushing his hair back out of his face. "It's hard, y'know? Not remembering. Makes this stuff worse."

"I know," you said, frowning a little, hopefully not enough to worry him."But you can ask me anything."

"Did you love me? Before all this."

Whatever you were expecting him to ask, it wasn't that. Your breath stuttered out and you pulled back to look at Stan. He let you leave his arms this time, looking pained at whatever he thought he saw on your face.

"Sorry, toots, forget I asked, I don't even remember if we were at that point I just-"

"I still love you, Stanley!" You blurted out, sure you were blushing as soon as the words left your mouth. "I never stopped."

You loved everything about him. His smile, the way his hair stuck out when he took off his fez, the way he cried during romance movies. How deep his capacity for love was, how smart he was. You loved his gut and his hands, oh, especially his hands, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

One day, you'd tell him all of that, but maybe when he didn't look so stricken.

"You...You still do?" He scratched the back of his head. You loved that too. "I don't see why, sugar. I'm not much to look at, and I'm not a great person. And yet you're still here, waiting for me, bein' all patient with me, and I guess I just don't get why."

"Stanley," you stopped him as soon as he took a breath, one hand on each side of his face, cupping his cheeks. He froze, staring at you. "Stanley, you're so, so good. I'd wait forever for you. I love you. Take that to heart."

He blushed up to the tip of his ears and closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at you, but he still leaned into one of your palms.

"Stanley," you whispered. He had asked something that had probably scared him. Now it was your turn.

"Hmm?" He didn't even open his eyes. 

"I would, um... Really like to kiss you now. Is that ok?"

"Yes," and he was kissing you before you could kiss him.

It wasn't like the first time you two had kissed, in the front seat of the Stanmobile, all nervous tension and Stan's fidgeting hands. It wasn't like the kisses after that, in the Mystery shack, your body against the counter, or in bed, Stan half asleep and you just so in awe of his strength and heart that you had to kiss him.

This was new, like being born again. Like a star expanding in your chest. Stanley tasted like every good dream you'd ever had. His stubble scratched your cheek as you melted into him, kissing him with every loving thought that you ever kept close of him. You hoped he understood now.

Stanley let out a soft groan into your mouth and you gasped into his, going more and more pliant, forgetting everything but him.

"I remember," he sighed against your lips, and you stopped to listen, thoughts swirling in your head, awe and hope and disbelief, unsure when you closed your eyes. "I remember...nn, right here." He kissed you again, then fell to your neck, mouthing at a spot that would have made your knees give out had you been standing up.

"Stanley...?"

"Wanna keep kissin' you, sugar," Stanley hummed into your jaw. "Maybe I'll remember more."

"Love you," you breathed, right before he kissed you again, all intent and softness bleeding into want. 

Soon, maybe, he would remember he loved you too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley has a nightmare and you're the first person he goes to, whether he means anything by it or not.

A knock on your door startled you from dreams of happy memories. You groaned softly, rolling over in bed and squeezing your eyes further shut to hold on to the image of Stanley in that cute obnoxious one piece he wore when swimming, a big grin on his face. The knock came again, a little quieter. You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes with the heel of your wrist. The clock read 2:01 a.m. 

“Yes?” Quiet. Not even a creak of a floorboard in the hallway. You got up from bed and made your way to the door, opened it, to find nothing. You peered out into the hallway, left, to nothing, and right, to Stanley’s retreating form. 

“Stanley!” You were certainly awake now, rushing to him and catching the back hem of his shirt. He sighed, shoulders slumping ever further, and looked at you over the grey hairs on his shoulder. 

“Evenin’, toots,” he said, and you took his hands when he turned to you. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was adorably scruffy. That, though, was a thought for when he didn’t look so troubled. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked, and Stan shrugged and ran a hand through his sleep mussed hair.

“I guess I just thought…Maybe, y’know, ‘cause you love me and all…we could sleep together?”

“That’s forward of you,” you joked, just to ease the tension in his brows. It worked. A small smirk quirked his lips.

“Not like that, goober.” You giggled, squeezing his hand.

“C’mon, Stanley. I’d love to sleep together.” 

It took him a second, but he nodded, and you led him down the hall back to your room. Stanley kicked the door shut with his heel, and then he just looked at you. You were busy fixing the blankets on your bed, but when he didn’t speak, you looked back at him.

“…You gonna tell me what happened?” 

He looked sheepish until you held out your hand to him. He shuffled closer, reaching for your hand and gripping it tight. 

“Don’t tell Ford,” he said, and immediately dread bloomed in your stomach. “Promise me.”

“Promise,” you said, even though you knew you probably shouldn’t have, and Stanley nodded. 

“I been having nightmares. Since…everything happened. Sometimes I wake up after and forget where I am. Who I am. It takes a minute, but it always comes back. Tonight, you were the first thing I remembered.”

You wished it was better circumstances and you could have been happy about that.

“It was just this…white space, I guess? And there was this crazy laughter, and I was burning. It was so hot, doll, and my skin just…bubbled off, and-“

He was shaking. Gods, you wished you could take it all away. You wrapped your arms around his middle, nuzzling your face into his collarbone, and took a shuddering breath. 

“Why do I feel like it was real?” he asked softly, and it was suddenly harder to breathe. “That it actually happened?”

“It didn’t, Stanley,” you assured him. “You’re here, and alive, and your family loves you.” You rest your chin on his chest to look up at him. “What can I do?” you asked, clinging to his shirt. One of Stanley’s hands fell to your lower back and the other began to stroke your hair, soft, as if you were the one that needed consoling. 

“This is enough, toots,” he grumbled, tips of his ears a bit pink at how close you were. That never got old. “I just…needed to be near ya.” 

You nodded but didn’t stop looking at him. “Well, c’mon then.” You beamed at him, pushing all worry to your toes. “Let me hold you.”

You laid down first, holding out your arms to him after you got comfortable, and Stan gave you a weary, genuine smile. He laid down facing you and buried his face in your chest, his arms draped across your middle. You hummed softly, unsure how to soothe him. Your lovely Stanley, who couldn’t escape hurt.

“Why don’t you call me Stan anymore?” He spoke into your chest, muffling his voice, and you pressed your lips to the top of his head, unsure where he was going. 

“Do you want me to?” you asked. He shook his head. You hummed. “Stanley’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but…I was Stan for so long, and then I was…Stanford, even if I was still Stan, but I was never Stanley until you met Ford and…” he mumbled. Your heart twisted. 

“I like your name,” you said. “Actually, I love your name. Everyone gets to call you Stan. But I get to call you Stanley. So, I’m going to keep using it. OK?” 

“OK,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of that, even if his face felt a little warmer where it was nestled in your chest.

You nuzzled into his hair. “Stannnnnley~” you cooed, and the man in your arms gave you a gruff

“What?”

“Love you.”

“Why?” He tensed up as soon as it was out of his mouth. You were not to be deterred, not now, when he needed you the most he had ever let you see. 

“I have a list,” you whispered warmly. “You can read it if you want.”

“Bull,” he mumbled, and you laughed.

“Not even. I promise you, I actually have a list.” 

“Mn, sure you do,” he said, sleepier now, and you kissed the visible part of his forehead, writing your list into his back with the pads of your fingers. 

“Hey,” he muttered as you traced your belly laugh into his back.

“Hmm?”

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what I'm doing anymore y'all if I write chapter 4 it's gonna be nsfw body worship and I'm gonna treat him like a god

**Author's Note:**

> (I might continue this with some body worship for Stan after he remembers more but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I usually only write nsfw ok)


End file.
